Drunken Blogger
  Divorce Houses

While I was on holiday I visited my “married” house.

There are two kinds of houses in the neighbourhood where I was living as a married man – the ones where the parents stayed married, and the ones where they didn’t.

Given only a cursory glance, both kinds of houses look the same – big, rambling, four and five-bedroom colonials set well back from the sidewalk-less streets, each an acre of land. Most are painted conservative colours, with contrasting colours, with contrasting shutters and trim – a slate-gray house with blue shutters, for example, or a pale beige house with a red door. Most have long driveways, done in gravel, and many have in-ground pools out back.

But look closer – or better yet, stay awhile – and you’ll start to see the difference.

The divorce houses are the ones where the Chem-Lawn truck doesn’t stop anymore, the ones the plowing guy drives past on the mornings after winter storms. Watch, and you’ll see either a procession of sullen-faced teenagers, or sometimes even the lady of the house, emerge to do the raking, mowing, shoveling, trimming, themselves. They’re the houses where mom’s Camry or Accord or minivan doesn’t get replaced every year, but just keeps getting older and older, and where the second car, if there is one, is more likely some fourth-hand piece of automotive detritus purchased from the classified ads than the time-honoured stripped down but brand-new Honda Civic or, if the kid’s really lucky, Dad’s cast-off midlife crisis sports car.

There’s no fancy landscaping, no big pool parties in the summer, no construction crews making a racket at 7:00 A.M. adding on that new home office or master bedroom suite. The paint job lasts for four or five years instead of two or three, and is more than a little bit flaky by the time it gets redone.

But mostly, you could tell on Saturday mornings, when what my friends and I dubbed the Daddy Parade began. At about ten or eleven o’clock every other Saturday, the driveways up and down the street, and the neighbouring streets, would fill with the cars of the men who used to live in these big four and five-bedroom houses. One by one, they’d exit their cars, trudge up the walkways, ring the bells of the homes where they used to sleep, and collect their kids for the weekends. The days, my friends would tell me, would be full of every kind of extravagance – shopping excursions, trips to the mall, the zoo, the circus, lunch out, dinner out, a movie before and after. Anything to keep the time passing, to fill the dead minutes between children and parents who suddenly had very little to say to each other once they’d got done either mouthing pleasantries (in cordial no-fault cases) or spitting vitriol (in the contested cases, where the parents paraded each other’s shortcomings and infidelities in front of a judge – and, by extension, in front of a gossipy public, and, eventually, their children as well)
  I have gotten to the point where I cringe every time a government official begins a sentence with "In this post-911 era... "They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety." Benjamin Franklin  
  Now, this sounds like fun! I just love spontaneity. 
  Hi. My name is Mac and I am an addict. 
  Queer Eye For the Straight Guy - in a word: Quality Telly. Ok that's 2 words. Bite me.

Originally aired on Bravo and now being screened for option on NBC. Meaning - We'll show a "special" screening and if we don't hear from Pat Robertson or his self-appointed yet non-existant boss, G-O-D, we'll play it for all it's worth.

Ergo: we like the gay folk as long as they keep up the ratings and make us money.

It's all about the benjamins, folks.

All I know is I enjoy the hell out of it and they make killer cocktails!
  Parenting Bingo

If you win, you're probably having a fairly lousy day, so park the kids in front of the telly and have a cocktail. Hell, have two.
  Bloody Marys and Corn

I love my Bloodies. I don't do the whole celery stick poking in yer cheek/ear thing. My favourite garnish is a nice jumbo shrimp on a rim perfectly seasoned with cracked black pepper and sea salt with a floater of fresh squeezed lemon juice. I just finished my morning bloody to find a few wayward kernals of corn swirling with the melting ice. WTH? Where did that come from? I rinse my glass to make another, go to the freezer for more ice and find that an open bag of shoe peg has spilled into the ice tray frozen and suspended like an entry-level Tibetan climber.
  Happy Birthday, Jenna B. Today my first baby girl would have turned 20. Though she has been gone for 18 1/2 years she is never out of my heart and rarely off of my mind. Daddy loves you sweet angel.

The mention of my child's name
may bring tears to my eyes
but it never fails
to bring music to my ears.
Let me hear the beautiful music
of her name.
It soothes my broken heart
and sings to my soul.
  Where is everybody? 
  More Dirty Laundry

Is the head dead yet? Photos of the pig latin boys, Uday and Qusay. AKA Odai and Qusai

These images are very graphic and difficult to view and are not recommended for children and some adults. Viewer discretion is advised.

More info here and here 
  Riddle Me This 4

What is the largest amount of money in coins you can have without being able to make exact change for a dollar (USD)? 
  A couple of questions:

George, why does your page take forever to load? And, Billy, where the hell did ya go? 
  Finally back from holiday. And folks, three weeks just isn't enough. If this is what life post holiday is like without a hangover, then quite frankly I don’t want any part of it. It disrupts the fundamental order of things.
  On Naming names or why the Bryant case is different:

It is no different than any other high profile and sordid tale. Servers are crashing due to people looking for photos of Kobe Bryant's accuser. It's all about dirty laundry, folks. Though loathe to admit it, the masses love it. Don Henley said it best:

I make my living off the evening news
Just give me something, something I can use
People love it when you lose, they love dirty laundry

Well, I could've been an actor, but I wound up here
I just have to look good, I don't have to be clear
Come and whisper in my ear, give us dirty laundry

Kick 'em when they're up, kick 'em when they're down
Kick 'em when they're up, kick 'em when they're down
Kick 'em when they're up, kick 'em when they're down
Kick 'em when they're up, kick 'em all around

We got the bubbleheaded bleach-blonde, comes on at 5
She can tell you about the plane crash with a gleam in her eye
It's interesting when people die, give us dirty laundry

Can we film the operation? Is the head dead yet?
You know the boys in the newsroom got a running bet
Get the widow on the set, we need dirty laundry

You don't really need to find out what's going on
You don't really want to know just how far it's gone
Just leave well enough alone, keep your dirty laundry

Kick 'em when they're up, kick 'em when they're down
Kick 'em when they're up, kick 'em when they're down
Kick 'em when they're up, kick 'em when they're down
Kick 'em when they're stiff, kick 'em all around

Dirty little secrets, dirty little lies
We got our dirty little fingers in everybody's pie
Love to cut you down to size, we love dirty laundry

We can do the innuendo, we can dance and sing
When it's said and done, we haven't told you a thing
We all know that crap is king, give us dirty laundry


  Movies. They're worth it. Let's see. $9.00, for two hours...$4.50 per hour per person. Whereas Vice City is at Best Buy for $50.00. From what I hear it's about 40 hours of game play and there's no limit to how many people can play it. So that's $1.25 per hour, unlimited people. If you work out six people being entertained for six hours, that's $7.50 for Vice City vs. $162.00 for three movies. Suddenly movies don't seem quite as worth it, especially if one of those movies turns out to be The Hulk. 
  And this, my friends, is just one of the many reasons I detest organised religion. 
  I only do it for medicinal purposes. Or as I told my son when questioned about it... Half of the population does it and the other half lies about it
  You really must see this:

1. Go to Google.
2. Type in but don't hit return: "Weapons of Mass Destruction".
3. Hit the I'm Feeling Lucky button instead of the regular search button.
4. READ carefully what appears to be a normal error message. 

  Still on holiday. Some form of normalcy shall resume sometime around the 23rd or so. Currently in Philly. Off on Thursday for 4 glorious days in Ocean City, MD, then off to the Big Apple and back to Philly for a few days. As you were... 

Mac Abre's Rambling Meanderings



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